


grow a garden in me

by bubblyzzz



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Canon Compliant, Post-Time Skip, Relationship Study, Slight Manga Spoilers, no beta we die like daichi, not Hanahaki disease just flower metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblyzzz/pseuds/bubblyzzz
Summary: Miya Atsumu considers Sakusa Kiyoomi to be a thorn in his side, until one day that thorn turns into a rose and he is left wondering about the nature of their relationship.(Or alternatively; two idiots navigate what it means to make space for another person in their lives over the course of a year.)
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	grow a garden in me

**Author's Note:**

> my sakuatsu brainrot and need to project onto fictional characters resulted in this,, i'm sorry. it was supposed to be fluff,, and then it turned into this kind of vaguely poetic mess. 
> 
> nonetheless thanks for checking my fic out and i hope you enjoy!

Atsumu was never a morning person. If possible, he liked to spend as little time in them as humanly possible. From an ice cold two-minute shower, to arriving to practice early every single day to practice serves alone, his morning routine never wavered. That is, until Sakusa Kiyoomi showed up. 

Sakusa invaded every single part of his routine, from being stupidly good at slamming his sets down, to rooming next to him in their shared apartment suite, it seemed as if the spiker had made himself a permanent thorn in Atsumu’s side. 

Though perhaps thorn wasn’t the right word. Because if Atsumu was being completely honest, the longer he spent with Sakusa, the more the man grew on him. Over time, the thorn had turned into something more akin to a rose, with new feelings blossoming as well. 

* * *

The change wasn’t all at once, nor was it noticeable at first, but it persisted nonetheless as Atsumu’s morning routine seemed to morph into one that required Sakusa in it. Instead of his usual brief, ice cold showers, the water was warm, his movements languid as he took his time pondering over a certain someone with jet black waves he wanted to run his hands through. Instead of practicing serves alone and hearing the satisfying slam of the ball on the opposite end of the court, there was now someone with an annoying smirk on the other end ready to receive it. 

Of course, even as the thorn began to change shape, he paid it no mind. Atsumu continued on with what he considered normal, and if his normal happened to shift a little to make space for another person, then he didn’t notice. What could be considered a monumental change in the way he lived his life went unrecognized as the more he made room, the more natural it felt. 

At this point, Atsumu couldn't take a freezing shower anymore. At this point, he couldn't fathom not making an extra serving of coffee, scalding and with zero add-ins like Sakusa enjoyed it. At this point, he couldn’t even try to leave for practice without the prickly spiker by his side.

But in a way, Atsumu supposed it was easy to give that part of his life up to the thorn pestering him. The vulnerability of it all, the way he felt inextricably seen every time Sakusa thanked him for the espresso, or glanced up at him after being unable to dig his serve, or god forbid, watched his bare torso with half lidded eyes when Atsumu exited the showers was intoxicating. 

It was too much. 

It wasn’t enough. 

* * *

And yet, as his new mornings settled in and seasons changed, the quietness of it all remained. By that point Atsumu had understood the thorn was no longer there, having been replaced with a budding rose instead. He continued his new routine, taking each addition in stride. But with the cold weather came new challenges, and as Sakusa started to pull away, it appeared as though the thorns had decided to re-emerge as well. This time however, they were growing from the stem of the rose, stabbing him in the places where it hurt the most. 

It was those winter mornings where he would take a cold shower anyways and leave the coffee from the day before out instead of brewing a fresh pot.

Part of him wondered if every day would be like that, if he would slowly shift back until his routine was again familiar and yet all too unrecognizable. But like the rare moment of sunlight cast upon the coldest of winter days, Atsumu had hope there would be warmth again. 

* * *

It came in the form of a hot pot of coffee. The rich scent wafted from the shared kitchen and creeped beneath Atsumu’s door to awake him to a new day. And a new day it was, when he followed the smell to be greeted with Sakusa handing him a mug full of coffee the exact way he liked it, no milk but far too much sugar for an athlete. As he stared at his mussed up reflection in the coffee, Atsumu couldn't help but feel the warmth of the beverage through the mug breaking through the clouds guarding his heart. And maybe, just maybe, that warmth reached the wilted rose and gave it some strength, too. 

As the days warmed up so did Sakusa, drawing him back into the game of push and pull they were used to. Hot coffee turned into iced coffee as they perfected a minus tempo quick attack that left electricity buzzing around them. Cold brushes of their shoulders melted into warm gazes and soon enough Atsumu found more flowers sprouting next to the single rose that had been nursed back to health. The addition of the new buds scared him though, the phantom feeling of thorns sending pangs of hurt through his chest. 

It wasn’t enough. 

It was too much. 

* * *

Atsumu was good at hiding. Hiding from his own feelings, hiding from his insecurities, hiding from himself. 

So he hid from Sakusa. 

His mornings morphed once again as Atsumu traveled back home for the off-season. The change jilted him this time around, the quietness remaining the only steady thing. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to welcome the man back into his life, it was just that he was afraid of watering a wilted rose only for it to be left in the cold once more. For Atsumu only knew that if he didn’t leave he would be stuck yearning for affection he may never have the privilege of keeping. Leaving was the only option in his mind, the idea of being stuck within the in-between too much for him to bear. 

So Atsumu spent his time in Hyogo, repairing his heart and desperately trying to forget about the flower that wouldn’t die. But sometimes, the thorn came back. Like when he’d set to his brother for fun, but it’d be too quick, too high, too reminiscent of a minus tempo attack that they didn’t have. Or like when he’d accidentally brew too much coffee and the scent became stifling, too nostalgic of a time he desperately missed. Going cold turkey was excruciating, the coldness Atsumu was willingly putting himself through getting to him faster than he expected. In a moment of weakness, he stalked through every account of Sakusa’s he could find on the internet, eyes hungry for even the barest of hints that the other man missed him. 

He didn’t find any. He liked his most recent post anyways, the way Sakusa’s slender fingers cupped his chin too enticing not to stare at. He thought about how those fingers curled around the mug he held each morning, how they stretched back to touch his wrist with ease, how they trembled when he reached out to Atsumu the last time they spoke. It was at this point in which he realized that despite not being aware of all the spots he had cleared for Sakusa to occupy, the moment they were vacated, the quietness of it all suddenly felt empty instead of comforting.

Even in the blistering heat of summer, it was still far too cold for Atsumu. But he was a coward, and so he continued to shiver in hiding as the emptiness consumed him. 

* * *

By the turn of autumn, Atsumu had picked himself back up. The plants were no longer there at all, no longer blooming but also no longer hurting. He liked to think he was a changed man, with his bronzed skin and bottle blonde hair that was now so blinding it demanded attention. To everyone else, it merely seemed like he had gone soul searching and come back as Atsumu 2.0, even more arrogant and charming than before. To Atsumu, it was less clear. The facade of happiness, of loudness really, drowned the quiet out, distracted him for long enough. Until he was ultimately faced with it once more. 

* * *

It happened by that damned coffee pot again. Atsumu was fairly sure it was cursed at that point, as he somehow managed to make two servings yet again despite not having done so for months. He sighed, pouring a cup and leaving the rest alone, hoping that someone else, anyone else would notice it first. 

Of course, Atsumu was not so lucky. When he recognized the sound of the feet padding in behind him, he knew he was doomed. 

The shuffling came to a stop. “You’re back.” 

Atsumu turned around, air knocked out of his breath as he desperately tried to avoid the way Sakusa’s eyes coldly regarded him. _Still beautiful as ever though_ , he thought. 

“Yeah,” he replied as evenly as he could, hoping his voice didn’t give away how panicked he really was. 

Sakusa’s gaze landed on his newly minted platinum hair before wandering to the coffee pot on the marble counter. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Atsumu swore he saw something in Sakusa’s expression soften a bit. 

“Practice starts even earlier tomorrow.” Sakusa continued to stare at the steaming liquid. 

“I know.” 

“Don’t be late.” his eyes flickered back to Atsumu before he spun around and walked away, the cadence of his footsteps still ingrained in Atsumu’s head. 

Once the spiker was out of sight, Atsumu sighed heavily, wondering what the hell Sakusa meant by that. Was he reading into it, or was the other man trying to ask him to show up to their early morning practice like they used to. Atsumu groaned in frustration, unsure of what to do the next day. 

One thing he was sure of was that although he had tried to pretend that the rose and all its thorns were gone, the roots had still remained and were starting to sprout up again at an alarming rate. 

* * *

Atsumu arrived early, just as he did when he was alone. It was odd, not only to walk without someone beside him, but to have to wonder whether or not said someone was waiting there for him. Even stranger was the way it was still so easy to make space, to want to make space as if it had never been filled in the first place. 

And if Atsumu was being honest with himself, maybe it hadn’t. 

He opened the gym door, the agonizing creak of the joints oddly nice to hear after so much time away. Too focused on the sound, he barely even registered the squeak of shoes on the varnished floor before a voice called out to him. 

“You’re here early.” 

“You said don’t be late.” 

Sakusa simply raised an eyebrow as he retrieved the ball carts to begin their service warm up. Neither of them said a word as they easily slipped back into their routine, stretching thoroughly before positioning themselves on opposite sides of the court. Atsumu served first, nothing behind it as he got back into the rhythm of things. Sakusa received it easily, the ball ricocheting back towards the net. He then grabbed a ball, meticulously going through his pre-serve routine. 

One delicate spin of the ball between his hands. 

Two bounces on to the floor. 

Sakusa tossed the ball up with far too much precision for his first serve of the day and ripped it right beside Atsumu’s head, barely missing him by a hair’s width as it hit the ground out of his reach. 

Atsumu blinked, frozen in place as he slowly met Sakusa’s eyes. There was a fiery determination within his irises, daring Atsumu to follow suit. 

“Your turn, Miya.” he sauntered back in position. 

Beyond just the challenge so clearly being presented, there was something more simmering beneath the surface. More anger, more rage. 

Atsumu immediately understood, almost laughing as he expected nothing less from the dynamic they had built up over the span of a year. Of course their arguments were through volleyball, through actions rather than words. It made sense, neither of them particularly good at words but exceptional at the sport. 

He took six steps from the line, holding the ball out in front of him as if to say ‘bring it on’ before tossing it up into the air. Sakusa anticipated the spike style serve, but it still spun off his arms, hitting the back wall with a resounding thud. 

Atsumu smirked as he felt the irritation radiating off Sakusa. 

The next serve was even gnarlier, the way the spiker’s wrists snapped to hit the ball still terrifying as ever. But that time, Atsumu was prepared and managed to narrowly dig the ball up. 

On the next one, he could tell that Sakusa was deliberately aiming for his face. Atsumu dodged, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he attempted to shift his weight and receive it. Despite his efforts, it managed to slip away and even before he looked back at Sakusa, Atsumu knew that the man would be sporting a shit-eating grin. 

_If that’s how it’s going to be, then give me all you got,_ he thought. _I can take it._

They continued their sparring match, sweat starting to drip down their faces as each serve became more impassioned than the last. Sakusa was able to pick up slightly more serves than Atsumu, though as time went on they both became more sluggish. After about an hour, Atsumu remembered the reason they used to practice serving together in the first place. 

He had been trying to perfect a new type of serve he’d seen a Russian player try, but it wasn't going well. His timing was always just a little bit off, or the toss a little too obvious to make it a sneak attack. But, when Sakusa began to practice with him, the setter asked him to help in making them more unreadable. Together, they made more progress in a couple days than Atsumu had in weeks. It also consisted of Sakusa having to burn his stare into him for hours on end, which Atsumu came to welcome wholeheartedly. 

He was close, so close to getting it the last time they practiced together, but they eventually collapsed from exhaustion before being able to get it just right. Atsumu wondered if Sakusa was anticipating it like usual, but considering he himself didn’t even remember it until it was nearing the start of practice, he doubted Sakusa was thinking about it. 

With five minutes left before practice officially started, Atsumu figured it was now or never. 

He took four steps back. 

With a deep breath, he tossed the ball exactly like he would a jump float serve, eyes following the sphere as it blurred above him. 

His approach was perfect, he could feel it. His timing was perfect, he could see it. His hand connected with the ball, pulling a nasty spike instead of the floater he initially set up. Sakusa noticed a moment too late, groaning as his dig attempt failed. Atsumu grinned down at him triumphantly, eyes shining with pride. He wasn’t sure if it was because all the time, practice, and frankly, tears that he put in had finally paid off, but the atmosphere in the gym completely shifted. 

“Nice serve,” Sakusa complimented, still lying down. 

“Thanks,” Atsumu replied, offering to help him up, “it wouldn't have been possible without yer help.” 

Sakusa accepted his hand, hoisting himself up and brushing his knee pads off whilst observing Atsumu. “You’ve changed, you know.” 

“You too,” he said, their hands still clasped together. 

Suddenly, the gym doors burst open as the rest of their team strolled in and they jumped apart, pretending to pick up after themselves. 

“Hey, you two! Stop practicing so hard before the rest of the team arrives, okay?” Meian yelled at them. 

* * *

After what had transpired before practice, Atsumu was desperate to be done with the day. He showered and changed as fast as humanly possible, waiting for Sakusa outside the gym. They walked back home in silence, shoulders brushing every few steps. Atsumu made no move to speak, the prospect of having to share his emotions turning the words in his throat to lead. The rose was back, this time without a thorn and Atsumu wondered if maybe this time it could work out. After all, Sakusa was right, he had changed. Time apart, while cathartic, was not right for him. Atsumu had accepted that a garden was something he wanted, fear of thorns be damned. All that time spent making room, all that time spent in between had caused them both so much pain, but also so much joy. 

They were both too much. 

It may never be enough. 

But he wouldn't know unless he tried. 

* * *

They reached their apartment, still not a single word shared. The way they set their bags down was mechanical, drawn out as each of them waited with baited breath, tension surrounding every fiber of their being. 

It was Atsumu who broke the silence first. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

“So am I.” 

“What happened to us, Kiyoomi?” Atsumu let the name slip past his tongue. 

Sakusa exhaled sharply, “I don’t know, Atsumu.” 

“Are we okay?” Atsumu asked, hands balling into fists by his side as his voice became small. 

“ _I don’t know, Atsumu._ ” Sakusa repeated, eyes trained on the floor as he forced himself not to cry. 

“Do you want to be?” Atsumu tapped the other’s foot, prompting him to look up. 

“Yeah, I do.” he whispered hoarsely, letting his forehead drop to Atsumu’s shoulder as tears streamed down his face. 

Atsumu wrapped his arms around Sakusa, embracing him as they both clumsily slid to their knees. 

“I missed you,” Sakusa sobbed. 

“I missed you too.” 

* * *

The seasons changed again, spring nearing as they began to pick up the pieces. The quietness creeped back in, but this time Atsumu wasn’t afraid. Because this time, Sakusa was beside him one hundred percent. It might’ve been concerning how easy it was for them to slip back into their routine, with Sakusa filling up the space he once had, even starting to occupy more. Sure they continued to bicker, and sure, there were bumps along the road, but with the security he had of knowing both of them weren’t going to give up, he felt invincible. 

This time, the change was noticeable, the way they gravitated towards each other like magnets obvious to anyone with eyes. Atsumu welcomed it, each new thing he learned about Sakusa becoming another treasured prize. 

This time, no amount of distance could put a damper on their bond. Atsumu could spend every waking moment with him and not get tired, but he could also be in a different city, with different people, and know that he had someone to come back home to. 

This time, Atsumu was allowed to touch, encouraged even. He no longer had to wonder how Sakusa’s fingers would feel along his skin as Atsumu drowned in the sensation, a trail of sparks left in every place explored. 

This time, they finally managed to say ‘I love you.’ Sure, Atsumu said it in the way he carried wipes and hand sanitizer with him. And sure, Sakusa said it in the way he always made sure to say ‘I’ll be back’ and kiss Atsumu before leaving. But the way that, after all this time they were finally able to spell it out without reservation made the single rose growing in his heart multiply into a beautiful garden. 

He let them bloom. And finally, finally, everything was just right. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for taking the time to read my work! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated as well :)) 
> 
> I also have another sakuatsu fic called tipsy (but what will we do when we're sober) which has more fluff/is more fleshed out if you'd like to check that out as well!


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